


East train running

by Jupiter2012



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Angst, Escape, M/M, PTSD, Runaway, short af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 11:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12080319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiter2012/pseuds/Jupiter2012
Summary: Clay needs to leave town, and Tony can't stay.





	East train running

**Author's Note:**

> Plotless, just a random idea. I've been wishing I could just up and leave. Maybe live on a farm. Yee haw

It’s been seven months since Hannah died and Alex stopped speaking; only five since Tyler shot up the school. Clay isn’t sure how he’s crawled through it all.

He can’t pinpoint the moment when he’d started needing Tony around him - or really, depending on him as if he were a gravitational field- the one keeping Clay from falling into a slipstream of nothingness. It’s the truth, Clay thinks, as he grits his teeth yet again. Another one of Tony’s habits he’s picked up.

It was odd; before the tapes, he hadn’t talked to Tony for ages (a handful of years at least). And then, for a brief, shining moment, they’d become something like friends again. Directly after it all, they sat in Tony’s mustang and drove for hours and hours- until the tank was low and Tony pulled over into a remote gas station only to refill and then swerve onto the lane again. They’d found a small diner to eat burgers and fries at, and lay on the sun warmed hood of the car to watch the sunset settle into the horizon. If Tony didn’t say a word the entire time they drove, eyes fixed on the crumbling roads ahead, it was enough for Clay. It was the best company Clay’s had in years (or maybe ever).

That was before. The pain was fresh; there was a comfort in bleeding together. But Clay has barely seen Tony in almost three months. Sometimes he’ll catch a glimpse of him from afar, sitting with his boyfriend through Monet’s window or leaving school, but Tony never meets Clay’s eyes fully.

Tony’s eyes give him away.

Clay doesn’t have the right to feel betrayed or abandoned, but it doesn’t matter. Somehow- he isn’t able to feel much anyway.

 _Empty_ is a good word to call it.

Even the night terrors don’t scare Clay anymore. He tells himself this at 3AM in the chilly mornings and forgets the fact that he hasn’t slept in days.There are little prescription bottles arranged neatly on the kitchen counter and his mother schedules visits to the therapist (as if he can be fixed as easily as a date is scribbled into her weekly planner). He’s picking himself up, piece by piece.

_Isn’t he?_

But even if Clay ignores the way his hands shake as he fingers a sheet of paper, or the amount of times he has to leave a room because it’s too loud, too much, he can still feel it; the hollowness, the tremor of relentless waves, the threat of being pulled under.

Sometimes he wishes Tyler’d had a little better luck in aiming.

 

* * *

 

He can’t stand it anymore. He wishes he could to scream into the night, punch threats into the walls, or maybe just cry again (he hasn’t, not since the day Hannah died).

Instead, he packs the dusty duffel bag tucked under his bed- a relic of his childhood long gone. He doesn’t own too many clothes, avoids looking at the never worn dress shirts his mother pressed into neat squares. It's a symbol of her OCD, or her disappointment in not having a golden child, or maybe both. Instead, bundles of t-shirts, jeans, socks and underwear make their way into the depths of the bag. Folding the clothes in the knowledge that they will soon be all he has is oddly satisfying- relieving, even. Toothbrush, comb, soap, jacket. He has almost six thousand dollars in cash tucked into a hidden pocket, and if that’s a foolish move, he doesn’t care. Using his card would be just stupid; he doesn’t want to be found.

There’s only one train that heads all the way out of town. It goes East, twisting and winding through little lakesides and towns until it passes through the crowded city. Clay doesn’t even know where the line ends, but it’s somewhere very, very far away in any case. He shoves the bag back under his bed with one foot while trying to read google maps on his phone.

_He’ll leave soon._

 

* * *

 

The next week of school, he’s filled with some kind of strange euphoria. Maybe it’s because life has been practically hell for the longest time, and finally- finally there’s a glimmer of hope. It’s the only thing left that he can do, he thinks, then his stomach lurches.

That’s what Hannah must have thought, too.

Clay’s about to leave any day now when he sees Tony in the school parking lot, falling into his car with a grunt. There’s a brief moment of shock when they catch each other’s eyes, and then Clay’s walking towards the mustang with more energy that he can remember feeling in weeks. Tony fiddles with his keys absentmindedly, and Clay know’s he’s thinking of driving away before Clay can reach him (but he’s far too polite to actually do that).

When he gets closer, Tony asks him if he needs a ride, the shallow grin masking something deeper. It's the first time Clay's seen his face in a long while.

Clay nods, deciding to just go along with it, and slides into the familiar leather. Tony's on edge; he's waiting for the question (Why? Why are you avoiding me?). But Clay doesn't have the heart to ask. He knows the answer. Tony's trying to fix himself too, to move on. That's hard when your company reminds you of the tapes. 

Sometimes he finds it hard to look at Tony, too. 

And maybe he's bad at hiding it from the other, or maybe Tony's just good at reading him, but  _it_ slips out when Clay casually mentions the train line.

"You're leaving," Tony states, meeting his eyes properly.

Clay doesn't answer. There's a pregnant pause. Tony’s skinnier than Clay’s ever seen him, and his dark circles stand out strong even against his tan skin. He’s wearing a slightly stained shirt and there’s a dull, exhausted look in his eyes. He doesn’t look half as handsome as he used to, not even close. He looks like someone who doesn’t care anymore.

Suddenly Clay feels a wave of guilt. Tony doesn't try to convince him to stay, though. He just does what he always does- stares at the deserted streets and drives. In the afternoon sunlight, Clay thinks he catches tears in Tony's eyes (maybe it’s just the light).

But halfway into Clay’s neighbourhood, Tony stiffens up to veer the car over and promptly vomit into the gutter. He’s choking so much so that Clay jumps out of his seat and around the car to hold him up, and in doing so, he notices how bony the other is. It scares him.

“I can’t stand this anymore, Clay,” Tony lets out. He forces out words that neither of them can understand until he’s crying quietly into Clay’s shoulder. Clay’s heart aches to hear the sound, but he just sits there and threads one hand through Tony’s hair and the other in circles down his back. There’s no further questioning, nothing to ask Tony anymore. Tony’s hands are trembling and he's vulnerable in a broken sort of way. Clay drives them back to Tony's and after Tony retches into the toilet a few more times they sit on the staircase shoulder to hip and talk for the first time in too long (it's felt like forever). Clay lets himself slip up and lean his head on Tony's shoulder (he smells like gas and bitter mineral), and they're united in the thought. 

_They don't belong in this town anymore._

 

* * *

 

It’s in Tony’s crowded garage after he pulls open the engine of his mustang and stares at it as though he’s not quite sure what to do, that Clay tells him his plans. Tony agrees far too easily and Clay is secretly glad. Deep down, he knows that he wouldn't leave Tony alone in the state he's in, anyway. Clay can tell it’s been on Tony's mind as well: the way in which they're both damaged, stained. Every day that goes by in this town is painful beyond belief.

_They could start a new life._

In the end, they don’t take the car. Maybe in a past life, Tony would be more upset about leaving his pride and joy- but he just runs his fingers over the cherry red gloss. Then he turns around to look at Clay and even though his cheeks are hollow, he looks alright for few seconds, the ghost of a smile flickering on for just a moment. 

“So you’re really going with me?” Clay asks again, just to be sure. His voice rough from lack of use. Tony nods wordlessly. They’re standing in the orange light of the train platform on a Saturday dawn. Tony’s got his bag and jacket and is shivering slightly in the chilly air. Clay flinches at passing trains. They have their passports, information  and they’ll buy new phones. Between them, they have enough money. Tony’s eighteen anyway, and Clay will be within the year. He’s left the pills on the kitchen counter.  Neither has left a note.

_They don’t look back._

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review or tell me if you would like another chapter!
> 
> Same goes for my other Clay/Tony one shots ;P


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